


Never Be Like You

by Vakarian



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vakarian/pseuds/Vakarian
Summary: After Grimmjow receives punishment for defying Aizen, he returns to the world of the living with one thing on his mind: revenge.





	1. Chapter 1

A split opened in the world, a yawning blackness that spilled a heavier atmosphere into the existing one. The arm that sprouted forth melted from the abyss therein, the dark giving way to pale skin that grasped like a claw towards the empty air. Cerulean strands of hair fell haphazardly over a creased forehead as a staggering figure emerged from the _gargantua_. Deep blue eyes were wild, silvered by the moonlight around him, but nothing could quell the fire that raged in them. 

Grimmjow felt a howl building in his chest. He wanted to roar upwards to the lonely moon and shake that unfamiliar sky, send his reiatsu in a crushing wave to broadcast his whereabouts. His mouth pulled at his face, frown lines so deep he could feel the drying blood on his skin crack in protest to the shifting muscles. He would be much less effective in his condition, he realized, the stench of his fresh wound making his nose wrinkle.

However faint his spiritual presence was due to his injuries, eventually someone would be able to detect an arrancar in the world of the living, one of those damn shinigami, no less. Grimmjow might have ground his teeth to dust at the thought, gnashing them together in a mixture of pain and unadulterated wrath. Unbidden, images of the orange-haired shinigami flashed into his mind. His eyes closed, reliving the moments before everything had been taken from him.

He could still smell his blood, feel the weight of his sword against his _hierro_. Grimmjow’s fingers moved to trail against the still fresh scar on his chest. _“Getsuga Tenshō,”_ the words were seared into his mind like a brand, Grimmjow swearing he could still feel traces of the heavy, black reiatsu on the wound. It was still raw, sensitive to the touch, but nowhere near the amount of agony as his severed arm.

Blue flashed open with renewed hunger, consuming the horizon. He channeled his strength into a considerable _pesquisa_ , reaching into the foreign town as if with his own hand to try and root out the energy signature he sought. It was mere seconds before he detected it, the same reiatsu, but different, quieter, that lingered on him from their previous fight. There were other, smaller ones surrounding him, one he recognized in the faintest sense and others he didn’t.

Grimmjow didn’t care who or what he had to go through, he wanted _that_ shinigami.

As he disappeared into the night air, he could see the eyes of his prey, almost so much so that he felt them. Brown traced with brilliant amber, shining back at him in equal parts terror and triumph. Grimmjow couldn’t understand those feelings, or the ones that welled in him in response. He could only interpret the anger it brought him, the dread in seeing that gaze on him once more. Had the orange-haired shinigami truly believed he could be defeated?

It would have been an effortless series of _sonido_ , but it took more out of him than he bargained for. Standing hunched in the air, Grimmjow’s breath came in a tremor, a bead of sweat streaking through the blood on his face. Had he stayed in Las Noches, he might have recuperated closer to full capacity, but to remain in Aizen’s grasp any longer would have been more torturous than the persistent ache that wracked every nerve in his body.

 _There_ , he thought with a spike of satisfaction. Grimmjow could feel him beyond the weak walls of the building he stood before, his eyes boring holes through the window. The dark was no match for his sight, as it may as well have been light out with how clearly he saw the restless body through the parted curtains. Grimmjow remained where he was against every instinct inside him that told him to plunge head first and shatter more than just the glass.

He pulsed his own reiatsu, clutching at his shoulder as if to physically hold himself back. Even from what little he could sense from the shinigami, he could tell whatever sleep he was trying to find was elusive. Grimmjow reveled in the sharp movement beyond the window, the newly familiar crop of hair the shot up and turned towards his direction. He wanted so badly to drink in that fear he knew was there, but he couldn’t risk attracting the entire household. Who knew how many more filthy reapers were lurking inside. Grimmjow didn’t wait as fingers fumbled to open the window, even if he desired to see a front row seat to the impending reaction.

He raced the wind to a quiet, wooded area, the hum of an insect almost grating on his ears. In the underbrush, there were other signs of life, chattering mammals and the distant sound of running water nearby. Grimmjow was eager to devastate that perfect tranquility; he and the shinigami were going to do it together. The feeling itched over his skin like thick static, prickling and exciting all at once. The anticipation was almost enough to cause nausea, but it did nothing to curb the ghosting smirk on his face. 

The arrancar dropped his feet onto the manmade path beneath him, letting his hand rest limply on the hilt of his sword. Much awaited reiatsu surged around him, but it, like his own, had weakened, brittle with its owner’s hesitation. Grimmjow couldn’t help but feel onset disappointment. Had their battle crushed the shinigami’s resolve that much? He felt him like a shadow slipping behind the silhouette of the trees, but Grimmjow could surmise that he’d at least piqued his interest enough to draw him into the night on his own.

“I know you’re there, shinigami.” he barked, becoming bored with the growing ambivalence.

Although he said the words, his eyes turned into wide disks as the orange-haired shinigami came into view. His black and white robe ruffled with a light breeze, the mere combination of colors enough to send an involuntary pinprick of anger through Grimmjow. The other’s hand was poised on his zanpakutō, fist clenched so tight that, even with the several lengths between them, he could see that his knuckles were white. Clearly, he’d left a lasting impression.

The shinigami’s expression was grave, and his eyes, _those eyes_ , were somehow staring at him and through him at the same time, both brimming with emotion and exhausted of any. There was movement on his face, a twitch in his upper lip and a flexing over his taut jaw. A word then fell from his mouth, and pierced Grimmjow through his chest.

“Grimmjow,” and it was amazing it had escaped at all past the barrier of the shinigami’s grit teeth, so much so it might as well have been exhaled.

It was terrible and flattering, the way his name settled on the opposite’s tongue in such a haunted way. Grimmjow’s mouth threatened to split open into a grin at the thought. What he couldn’t have accounted for, however, was how washed out brown began to trickle down from his face and over his body, and he slowly realized that the shinigami’s evaluation of him was changing. Grimmjow subconsciously angled his injured shoulder from direct view, scowling severely. His eyes flickered anxiously as he saw the minute relax of fingers starting to unravel from a bandaged hilt.

“I didn’t do that to you.” He sounded not entirely sure of himself, and his gaze wouldn’t leave where Grimmjow’s arm should’ve been.

It made Grimmjow release a sound so incredulous and harsh that a bird burst from the nearest tree in a flurry of tiny wings. “Of course not, fuckin’ idiot.” he retorted, and gestured with a splayed hand to his chest. “ _This_ was a lucky shot on its own. You really think you could take my arm off with your weak ass powers?” It was rhetorical, and maybe the shinigami knew that, or knew it was the truth because he didn’t answer.

Seconds later, the hand had completely left the zanpakutō and resolved to stay rather uselessly at the orange-haired shinigami’s side. “I saw you leave with Tōsen. There were no other shinigami, no one else to fight you. What happened when you returned to Hueco Mundo?”

The question burned his ears, renewed the pain in his arm, or rather the lack thereof. He fought the temptation to dig his fingers into his shoulder and scream in agony or indignation, whichever came first. It enraged him to even think that the ratty reaper before him could even be considering something so lowly as sympathy for him. It wasn’t at all what he’d pictured, what he’d wanted by confronting his enemy.

What he wanted?

“You got one thing right,” Grimmjow spat venomously, “no shinigami scum did this to me.”

He set his gaze contemptuously to the woods. His insides were in an ever increasing turmoil, and his mind was conflicted with what he hated most: was it the shinigami, the Soul Society, and the orange-haired boy in front of him, or was it being a pawn in Aizen’s game, Las Noches’ suffocating blue sky, and that sightless bastard who took his arm? Grimmjow’s head was swimming with the possibilities, and the pause continued to lengthen between them, pregnant with indecision and questions.

Finally, he let his eyes pan slowly back to who should’ve been his sworn enemy, who, for all intents and purposes, _was_ ; he was also the only individual who could even come close to help exacting revenge on Aizen. Grimmjow knew that both shinigami and hollow were preparing for war, and he’d come here to tip the scales in his own favor, more than anything, because living under that worm’s thumb in Hueco Mundo brought him nothing but humiliation. He deeply hated to admit, however, that it was the shinigami before him that he needed to cooperate with the most.

He reflexively clutched at the hilt of his sword, a sneer escaping him as the other mirrored his action. “Believe it or not, shinigami, I didn’t come here to kill ya.” Grimmjow said, and the following frown made it seem as though it truly pained him to admit it.

There was a conflicting mixture of emotions that hung in the air between them before the boy spoke. “It’s Kurosaki, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> undertaking a really ambitious plan to rewrite bleach with grimm defecting to team ichigo after getting his arm cut off. happy grimmichi day 2019!
> 
> i don't know how frequent updates will be, but i hope fairly regular. the rating may also change to explicit at some point but not sure about that just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a lack of humidity in the air. Yet, Ichigo had broke into a fine sheen of sweat upon seeing the arrancar who had beaten him in the flesh once more. He’d thought he was having some kind of nightmare having seen that towering silhouette through the window of his bedroom, but the reiatsu had been unmistakable: fierce and unwavering, taunting and beckoning. Truthfully, he was apprehensive about returning to spirit form for fear of losing the battle within himself, but he’d felt obligated to pursue Grimmjow.

However dangerous the Espada was, however threatened Ichigo’s life should have been, his curiosity kept him from both drawing Zangetsu or retreating. Why would Grimmjow return to the world of the living on his own, knowing how many shinigami were still alive and willing to fight? Not only that, but he was in much worse condition than when he’d left. Surely, he didn’t plan on picking a losing battle, even though Ichigo couldn’t be entirely sure it would be lost against him.

“Kurosaki,” came his name, grating and harshened on each syllable, like the other was testing its sound. It was enough to make him stiffen involuntarily.

Grimmjow’s eyes were bestial, to put it in the kindest sense. The way they bore into him made him feel as though they were opening old wounds, unravelling Orihime’s rejection simply by sheer will alone. Ichigo fingered his shihakusho’s front, trying to steel himself and hold that gaze. It was difficult to endure the intensity, the glint in each darkened blue that made him feel like Grimmjow was internally ripping him limb from limb. He could almost hear the other’s laughter ringing in his head, but it jumbled together, sounding too much like _his_.

“If you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” Ichigo asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.

It seemed like his expression subtly changed to a considering one, but Grimmjow didn’t exactly let up on his death stare. He moved slightly, his shoulder and missing arm back into full view. The pristine white of his jacket was disturbed by the tattered sleeve, splashes of blackened blood having almost  soaked to his two-tone collar. The line of his mouth lengthened into an impossibly larger scowl, lip curling to reveal a sliver of his teeth, all but mirrored by the haunting piece of jaw bone that framed the right side of his face.

“I didn’t say nothin’ about not fighting, I just said I don’t plan on killin’ ya.” The arrancar finally replied. He angled his head, spitting on the ground as he did so; the action was eerily human-like but an average level of disrespectful which made it more appropriate. “ _Yet_.” he said firmly, his mouth twitching as if trying to rein in his satisfaction.

Ichigo believed him. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” he attempted to reason, but didn’t make it obvious for whom he spoke.

“You’re damn right it wouldn’t be. I don’t need two arms to beat your ass.” Grimmjow quipped back without missing a beat.

He felt a prickle of annoyance skating along the nape of his neck, sensing some of his anxiety melt from the heat of it. He didn’t feel like playing cat and mouse with the mysterious Espada visitor. Asoft sound echoed in his chest, one that was close to exasperation, accompanied with a sigh of growing impatience. Although it was somewhat comforting that neither of them had drawn their swords, Ichigo wasn’t in full faith that Grimmjow wouldn’t attack him without provocation, but pummeling him with insults wasn’t furthering the conversation along either.

“Well, let’s either square up or you tell me what’s going on.” There was some dread that loomed over him right after the words left his mouth. He wondered if Grimmjow would call his bluff.

There was a brief but all consuming silence of deliberation. Then Grimmjow’s lips parted, his canines looking too long, his eyes too wild, the skin coated in blood looking all too perfect for what he said: “I’m gonna kill Aizen.”

“ _What_?” Ichigo felt like his ears were ringing as if a gun had gone off next to him.

“I’m gonna tear through the whole of Las Noches and bring the ceiling crumbling down on their fuckin’ heads, Kurosaki.”

 _Just like that?_ he wanted to say but didn’t, not that he could immediately speak with how his mouth had seized. The pieces wanted to put themselves together, but he wasn’t sure if they would fit. He had no idea how autonomous the arrancar were after Aizen had created them, and surely if there were some kind of compulsion at large then Grimmjow wouldn’t be standing before him and spouting what was probably the most unbelievable proclamation he’d ever heard. Moreover, why not lead the hollow rebellion from Hueco Mundo? If Grimmjow were capable of betrayal, perhaps there were other arrancar that could see through the veil Aizen seemed fond of draping over his pawns.

Brown eyes trailed back to the other’s missing arm. “Did he do that to you for coming here?”

Grimmjow made a face like Ichigo stuck his fingers in his open wounds, looking as though he could’ve screamed in response. It was like his whole body struggled with that single question, wrestling to keep from exploding on impact. “Coming here, disobeying orders, getting my entire _fracción_ killed.”

What he said did nothing to thaw the ice that had trickled into his veins. It felt too much like a confession, way too honest. The other arrancar that had come, the ones that were defeated by his friends, had been under Grimmjow’s command. Ichigo didn’t know if he should say anything about that, especially since it would be saying what they both already knew, and that inkling of sympathy was washed away by the images playing in his mind. Grimmjow had effortlessly defeated Rukia and nearly killed her, and that grisly reminder was enough to dredge bile from his stomach.

“I hate that look in your eyes.” It came in a hiss, quiet enough that it didn’t sound much different than Grimmjow drawing breath.

Ichigo’s ears burned to hear that, not sure if it had truly been intended to be heard. Under a scrutinizing gaze for too long, he had to look away. It was still relatively serene around them, giving the scene a rather conflicting air to what was actually occurring. The park was hushed, silenced by the time of day, which was either late or early depending on who you asked. Ichigo felt tired, and a smaller part of him thought he might’ve been having a bad dream, that the Grimmjow in front of him was no more than an apparition his subconscious had cooked up for him.

Suddenly, a familiar presence pressed against his back, one that he normally would have cried out in joy to feel. Grimmjow must have sensed the change as well because his stance shifting caught Ichigo’s attention. Without thinking, he put his palm outward as if to placate the arrancar, but it came too late.A graceful and icy reiatsu surged against him, and in his peripheral he saw the air around him haze as it did when someone used shunpo. His eyes widened, and a fresh panic bloomed in his chest. It made his heart begin to hammer, and he shouted above the sound of it roaring inside him: “Rukia, wait—!”

“Dance,” and the zanpakutō responded in kind, a dazzling white ribbon lashing out behind the advancing figure,“Sode no Shirayuki!”

Ichigo watched helplessly as their swords met; he realized he hadn’t seen Grimmjow take his from its scabbard. His next words were caught in his throat as Grimmjow’s spiritual pressure felt as though it were trying to crush both the shinigami. It was like there was a cruel hand tightening around his neck. _Even that injured, he’s still—_ Ichigo couldn’t finish the thought, taking a few too crucial seconds to breathe normally again. It wasn’t enough to bring him to his knees, but it was a reminder of how strong Grimmjow and the arrancar were. His fingers had found their way to Zangetsu once more, and he had to fight the urge to keep them from unraveling the great sword from its makeshift sheath of winding bandages.

Beyond the raven black of Rukia’s head, the swords’ metal grated together as both opponents pushed towards each other. He couldn’t see her face, but Grimmjow’s expression was something that might’ve been considered delighted. “You come here for me to gore you again, you little bitch?” he mocked, his mouth splitting into an inhuman grin.

“What the hell, Ichigo?” she spat, using visible effort to fight Grimmjow’s onslaught. Ichigo could hear the outrage in her voice, only prefaced by the sharp, angry flares in her reiatsu. “What is he doing here?”

“Finishing what I started.” Grimmjow snarled wickedly, pressing his foreign zanpakutō forward and causing the black-haired shinigami to lose ground, her sandals sliding in the dirt.

“No, he isn’t!” Ichigo’s interjection was loud and sudden, but it was lilted with uncertainty. Of course, it was difficult to simply take Grimmjow’s word, but there was a manner in which he spoke of Aizen, and the look that came into his eyes when he did made it all the easier to believe him. “He wants Aizen dead, and he came here—” he couldn’t finish because he realized that he didn’t truly know why he came to his world.

Finally, the swords’ embrace broke apart as Grimmjow enacted a final thrust forward, sending a spray of dirt and grass backward along with Rukia’s slighter form. He could hear her curse on a frustrated exhale, and it took several moments of her chest heaving before she looked over her shoulder at him. Her dark eyes were sharp with indignation, and, in the pale light, they were enough to make him start slightly. Ichigo realized, with a shred of guilt, how it sounded when this was the arrancar that had effortlessly tossed her aside and nearly cost her, her life.

“Ya aren’t worth the trouble, shinigami.” They both looked again onto Grimmjow as he spoke. “Put that piece of shit zanpakutō away before I impale you with it.” he warned, and, as if in good faith, if someone like him were capable of that, he sheathed his own sword with an easy _click_.

Rukia’s head swiveled back to Ichigo, uncertainty lining her eyes and causing little creases in her brow. He found it in himself to give the slightest nod, ignoring the fact he had to swallow with difficulty in the same moment. His assurance meant nothing if Grimmjow was lying. Though Rukia’s body remained tense, she lowered her sword albeit with great hesitation, but did not revert its shikai. Sode no Shirayuki seemed to have its own wind, the long, snowy plume that sprouted from the hilt flowing of its own volition, curling almost protectively around the owner. After staring at Ichigo for what seemed an eternity, she let out a small, resigned noise before returning her attention to the blue-haired Espada.

“ _You_ ,” Rukia said severely, “you will tell us how you plan to be trusted after the damage you caused.”

He felt distant from the scene, his breath bated, feeling that his eyes were a bit comically wide as Rukia’s statement hung in the air between them all. Ichigo watched as, slowly, Grimmjow gave way to it. First, he looked far away, seeming somewhere between considering and bored, but, when his gaze returned, it was keen and bright. A scoff was forced from his mouth, raucous and punctuated, and his lips hung open in another grin. Ichigo thought he could see the pointed teeth of his mask begin to part as well; it was unsettling enough to make him double-take.

Grimmjow answered: “I could care less if ya trust me or not. That ain’t my problem, but if ya want an inside look at what that bastard is planning, then you better hold off tryin’ to get yourself killed by my hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was a bit of a wait but its here!! chapter 2!! i plan to switch pov every chap, if it works out. please enjoy and let me know what you think.


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